


Flashpoint

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Feathers and Flames [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cas's daughter is a bamf, Case Fic, Dad Castiel, Family, Gen, Ghosts, Humor, Hunter Training, Mystery, Uncle Dean Winchester, mild Cas whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-05-26 22:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15010826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: Sequel to “Raising Amy” - Dean and Cas take Amy on her first hunt. A ghost case seems easy enough, but since when are things ever easy for Winchesters?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the verse that just keeps evolving! To think that "From the Ashes" and "A Fire Shall Be Woken" was to be it for this particular AU, and then came three more sequels, and "Burn It Down" was honestly supposed to be the final happily ever after for everyone. But then came snapshots of TFW raising Cas's daughter, and then she started growing up in those one shots, and now she's fully grown and we're going to have a new series of adventures!
> 
> But I've had a lot of fun with this verse and I think the next few fics are going to be fun too. (And full of angst and hurt/comfort because, come on, it's me.) I hope y'all will enjoy it.
> 
> This takes place five years after "Burn It Down" (which would be season 16 if that helps orient you; but remember this verse went AU seasons 10-11).
> 
> Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading, for always being my cheerleader, and for the lovely fan art! ^_^

 

Dean came into the bunker after spending all morning in the garage working on the Impala. He'd changed the oil, given the engine a tune-up, and finished her off with a nice wash and wax that left her sparkly clean and shiny. Nothing filled him with a more inflated sense of pride and accomplishment than keeping his Baby in pristine condition.

Too bad no one else shared that devotion. Instead of helping him with this sacred maintenance, Dean found everyone in the library doing nerdy book or computer things. Cas and Ryn were looking over some ancient tome in a dead language, while Sam and Amy clacked away at their laptops. Seriously, none of them had any appreciation for craftsmanship.

Dean turned to bypass them and head to the kitchen for a sandwich, when Amy's voice stopped him.

"Uncle Dean, do you have a minute?"

He turned on his heel and entered the study area. "Sure. What's up?"

"I found a case," she announced. "A man in Nebraska mysteriously died yesterday, and a witness said they saw a cloud of black smoke. Sounds like a demon."

Sam looked up from his computer. "Just one death?"

"So far," Amy replied.

"Mysteriously died how?" Dean asked.

"Asphyxiation. While standing on the sidewalk."

Dean glanced at his brother, who shrugged one shoulder. It wasn't a lot to go on, but they'd hunted on less.

"Yeah, alright. We'll look into it." This was why he kept Baby in tip-top shape. "Good catch."

Amy stood abruptly. "Can I come?"

Dean blinked at her, a refusal already on his lips.

"I'm ready," she barreled on before he could answer, shooting everyone in the room a pleading look. "I did well on the trainings with Crowley and can handle myself in a fight. Please?"

Dean was still going to say no, but he caught Ryn's thoughtful expression, which stayed his tongue.

Ryn straightened. "I think it's time."

Dean's knee-jerk reaction was to vehemently oppose that, but he managed to hold it in. He'd known for a while now that Amy would eventually have to go on a hunt. He'd just been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. But she was grown now, and it was only natural for her to want to join them in the family business. Better she do it with them rather than getting impatient and trying to strike out on her own.

Not that that made it any easier for Dean to swallow.

"Why don't you and Cas take her on the case," Ryn suggested. "Sam and I can stay here."

Dean looked to Cas to gauge his reaction. And while the angel had been just as protective of his daughter, he had a pensive crease in his brow that suggested he was seriously considering this. Amy was practically rocking on the balls of her feet in anticipation, giving her father the puppy eyes she'd inherited from him.

Cas finally met Dean's gaze and gave a subtle nod.

He sighed in resignation. "Alright then." He turned to his niece. "You'd better put together a go-bag."

Amy's face lit up. "Thank you! I won't let you down." She went hurrying from the library toward her room.

Dean couldn't help but be proud of her enthusiasm, at least. And they had been training her; she had to test her mettle sometime.

"When do you want to leave?" Cas asked.

"After I eat and shower," he replied. He was covered in grease, after all. "Sam, you wanna forward the stuff she found to my phone?"

His brother nodded, and pulled Amy's laptop over so he could do that.

Dean turned to head for the showers. And if he didn't rush like he normally would have, well, no one could blame him.

* * *

Amy stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her 'FBI' clothes. She'd changed into slim black pants and a white silk blouse with a little fringe around the neckline. The suit jacket was tailored to feminine curves and hugged her frame. She turned from side to side, trying to decide if she looked the part. She'd had plenty of training in lore and the fighting side of hunting, but the investigative stuff was all theory. This would be her first time putting it into practice, and she was both nervous and excited.

There was a soft knock on her door before it opened and her mom came in. Out of everyone, Ryn was the most supportive of Amy hunting, which she was extremely grateful for. Amy kinda wished her mom was going on the case with them.

She spread her arms. "How do I look?"

Ryn closed the distance and reached out to fold down the collar of the blazer. "Like a powerhouse woman."

Amy smiled tentatively.

"You'll do great," her mother went on. "But pay attention to your dad and Dean out there and follow their lead."

Amy nodded. She turned to study her reflection again, and pursed her lips in consideration before she gathered her long brown curls up off her shoulders. Yeah, putting it up looked better. She grabbed a hair band off the nearby dresser and quickly tied her hair back.

Ryn smiled. "You all ready?"

Amy nodded again, and moved to the bed where she'd left her packed duffel bag. Kit was curled up on top of it as though in protest. Now even the cat was being overprotective. Amy nudged the feline off and slung her bag over her shoulder just as she heard Dean's voice yell from down the hall to get going.

Amy took one more deep breath and exchanged a smile with her mom, and then hurried out of the room before they decided to leave without her.

* * *

The drive from Kansas to Nebraska wasn't long, and since it was only mid-afternoon, they went straight to the morgue to examine the victim. Dean and Amy had dressed in their FBI threads before leaving the bunker. Castiel, of course, hadn't needed to change.

The medical examiner was expecting them, as Sam had called ahead to give the police a heads-up. Castiel had done this dance often enough to expect some resistance from local law enforcement, especially when they didn't believe there was even a case to be investigated. Right away when the ME came out to meet them, the man had a put-out expression on his face.

"Agents," he greeted. "As I told your supervisor, there's nothing to see here. William Stackhouse died of smoke inhalation."

Dean just shrugged. "We just go where they tell us to. But since we are here, mind if we take a look? Then we can tell our boss we did and he can stop breathing down our necks."

The ME made a slightly disgruntled noise, but nevertheless gestured for them to follow him. He glanced at Amy. "What is this, take your daughter to work day?"

"She's an agent in training," Dean replied before Castiel could, shooting him a look.

Castiel huffed silently. He was going to say that.

They headed down the corridor to the morgue where a body was laid out on a slab, covered with a sheet up to the waist and a Y-stitched gash down the torso.

"Smoke inhalation, huh?" Dean said, sounding skeptical.

"That's what my report says."

"He was standing on the street, though."

"Smoking a cigarette."

Dean arched a dubious brow. "You're saying he died of smoke inhalation from a cigarette?"

The ME snorted. "It's weird, I'll give you that. But I examined the lungs and they were full of smoke. That was the cause of death." He shook his head. "Talk about a quit smoking campaign."

Dean glanced at Castiel. That did sound strange.

"Well, we don't want to keep you," Dean said. "If you leave the report with us, you can say you did your due diligence, and then we can tell our bosses the same."

The ME gave him a sidelong look, but then begrudgingly handed over the file. "Have at it." He left, finally giving them the room to properly examine the body.

Castiel moved closer and ran his nose over the victim. He then straightened and turned to Amala. "What do you smell?"

She leaned down and gave a whiff, and furrowed her brow. "Smoke. And—" she scrunched her nose up "—lack of deodorant."

"Anything else?"

Amy grimaced as she bent closer. "Um, kidney disease?"

"Now you're just making stuff up," Dean interjected, tossing Castiel a doubtful look. "You can't smell this dude's internal organs."

"You've seen me do it before. I can tell you the state of your liver right now," he offered.

Dean held up the file between them warningly. "Don't get fresh with me."

Castiel huffed. "Would you like to confirm our diagnosis?" he asked, flicking a pointed look at the report.

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the file to skim it. His gaze stilled. "Well, I'll be damned."

Amy brightened. "So I was right?"

"Yep."

She beamed at Castiel. He smiled encouragingly back at her.

"So, what are you  _not_  sensing?" he prompted.

She frowned, and roved her gaze over the body. "Um…"

Castiel waited patiently, and a quick moment later, her eyes widened.

"No sulfur."

He nodded. "Exactly."

"So, not a demon," Dean concluded.

"No," Castiel agreed.

"But what about the black smoke the witness saw?" Amy asked.

"Well, according to this, guy's lungs  _were_  full of smoke," Dean said, reading over the medical examiner's report again.

Amy's expression fell. "So, my first case and I sent us on a wild goose chase?"

Dean pursed his lips, and handed the file to Castiel. "I'm not sure I buy it being a cigarette," he said, and pulled out his EMF reader. As soon as he waved the sensor over the body, it gave off a high-pitched beeping. His brows rose. "Alright, then. Ghost instead."

Amy blinked in bewilderment, and said somewhat dejectedly, "I can't believe I was so far off."

Dean pocketed the EMF reader. "You know how many cases we've been on that start out looking one way and end up being something completely different? It's just part of the process."

Amy sucked on the inside of her cheek. "Yeah?"

"That's why you have to rule out possibilities when investigating, rather than trying to prove your initial theory," Castiel added. "And always keep an open mind."

She nodded in understanding. "Okay, so, ghost. That means we need to go to where the victim died, right?"

"Right," Castiel replied, scanning the rest of the report for the relevant information before closing the file and setting it on one of the instrument trays.

The three of them then made their way back out to the Impala and drove to the address where the deceased had been found.

It turned out to be the scene of a burned down building. Two charred walls were barely standing on the corner of the block perpendicular to each other, the skeletal remains of the other two facing the street. Scorched gaps looked in on piles of ash and debris illuminated by sunlight. The roof was completely gone, save for a few beams that looked as though they could cave in if a sparrow landed on them. There was a bright red sign with Japanese Kanji characters piled on top of some of the refuse.

"Well," Dean said as they climbed out of the car. "This looks promising. How much you wanna bet someone died in this?"

Castiel scanned the building, senses peeled. All was quiet. There was barely any traffic on the street, and the nearby structures looked old and vacant. Not the nicest part of town, based on appearances.

Amy already had her phone out and was looking at something. "It was a Japanese restaurant," she said. "Burned down a few weeks ago…killed everyone inside."

"How many?" Castiel asked.

"The owner, three employees, and…uh-oh."

Castiel and Dean turned toward her. "What?"

She looked up, expression grim. "The fire was so hot that all the bodies were completely incinerated. There's nothing left of them."

Dean's brows rose sharply. "Great. So salt and burning is out of the question."

"There were three customers," she went on. "But the police have only been able to identify two."

"Even better," he muttered.

"What was the cause of the fire?" Castiel asked curiously.

Amy swiped at her screen a few times. "Police determined arson, but haven't announced any suspects."

Dean turned in place, scanning the wreckage thoughtfully. "Hey, wasn't our vic a real estate agent?"

Castiel remembered seeing that in the report. "Yes."

"Maybe it was him. Trying to free up the property for development or something. The ghost could have targeted him for revenge."

"This area doesn't exactly look like prime real estate," Castiel remarked.

"Okay, maybe not. But if our ghost is attached to the building, it wouldn't want someone coming in and planning to tear it down."

That was true.

Dean cocked his head. "I've never had to burn down a…burned down building before. Would that even work? Seems redundant."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I don't know. The ghost could also be attached to an object."

Dean pulled out his cell. "I'll call the police station and have them send the arson file to Sam. Maybe he can start putting together victim profiles."

That was definitely going to be a challenge in this case.

While Dean made his calls, Castiel stepped up to the edge of the ruined restaurant and squinted, trying to sense a ghostly presence. Nothing stirred, though. He scanned the detritus inside. It was possible an object could have survived the fire and the ghost attached themselves to it after death, but searching through it all would be time consuming.

Amy came up beside him, and they both stood in silence for several long moments, just observing.

"I don't sense anything," she finally whispered with a slight inflection, as though asking whether she was right or not.

"Neither do I," he replied.

She was quiet for another minute, Dean's voice in the background.

"So," she said. "We've got a lot more work to do, don't we?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, we do."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean really didn't want to pick through an entire pile of rubble searching for personal objects their ghost could be attached to. And without knowing the identity of said ghost, they'd have to salvage any and every item that could serve as an anchor point. Burning down the building—again—might have been a swifter method, but since they couldn't guarantee that would work, they didn't want to try it and end up burying a potential focal object even further.

So they were gonna have to go about this the tedious way, and hope they could find something to help them ID the ghost. Sam and Ryn would work on the arson file from their end, leaving Dean, Cas, and Amy to sniff around the ruined restaurant.

But it was already late evening and dark, so Dean called it quits for the day and they went to find a motel to check into. After booking a room—a single, since his two celestial companions could go without sleep—the three of them then headed across the street to a bar and grill for some dinner. Dean and Amy ordered burgers while Cas, of course, abstained. Though he occasionally nicked a french fry from their plates.

"Are we really going to go sifting through the wreckage tomorrow?" Amy asked.

Dean sighed. "I admit, it's not much, but maybe if we poke around, the ghost might show itself. Then if we can ID it, maybe we can figure out some kind of tracking spell to locate what it's attached to."

Cas canted his head in contemplation. "That could be useful. I might also be able to pinpoint the psychic signature if the ghost manifests and expends a great deal of its energy."

Dean perked up. "How hard would that be?"

"You'd have to keep it distracted."

Dean slumped back in his chair with an eye roll. Translation: be its punching bag and hope it didn't get too many licks in before Cas found the stupid item.

"We could do that, right?" Amy said, looking at him expectantly.

Dean snorted, but shrugged. "We might not have much of a choice." At least Amy could probably take on a ghost without getting hurt.

She stood up from the table. "I'll go get us some beers."

Dean whipped his head up. "Excuse me?"

Amy raised her brows pointedly. "Beers. You know, the thing we do at the end of the day on a hunt."

Dean held up a finger. "Whoa, there is no 'we' with the beers. Cas and I can have a beer. You can have root beer."

She gaped at him with an affronted mien. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"No bartender is gonna look at you and think so."

"If they card me, I have my FBI creds," Amy countered, and pulled out the fake badge Dean had made her.

"Give me that," he snipped, snatching it out of her hand.

Amy huffed. "It's not like I'm gonna get drunk off one beer. What's the big deal?"

"Alcohol is inebriating, even if the effects might be minimal for you," Cas said.

"Uncle Dean drinks all the time."

"Yeah, and this is one of those do as I say, not as I do things," he scowled, pocketing her fake creds.

"Come  _on_ ," she whined.

Dean shooed her away. "Go get us some sodas."

Amy gave him a bland look, but then rolled her eyes and finally headed for the bar counter. Dean grumbled under his breath about not getting a beer tonight.

Cas's lips were twitching.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"I've always wondered if there was anything that could get you to curb your drinking. Now I know."

Dean shot the angel a peeved glower.

Cas glanced over his shoulder to where Amy was waiting at the crowded bar counter, and his expression turned somewhat melancholic. "I know she's grown up…but she's still so young."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, also watching her from across the restaurant. "She's doing good, though. I gotta admit, I was worried at first. But she's learned from the best. She just needs some field experience."

Cas looked back at him with a smirk. "You've certainly changed your tune."

Dean huffed. "It was inevitable, right? Our family hunts. So will she."

Cas nodded, then canted his head in thought. "I suppose one beer wouldn't  _hurt_ …"

"No," Dean growled.

Cas's mouth quirked again, but he didn't say anything because Amy was just coming back, two glasses of soda in hand. One was a lighter color than the other, and that's the one she wordlessly set in front of Dean. He picked it up and tasted it, and had to hold back a snort. Root beer. She'd probably gotten coca cola for herself.

Amy went back to eating her burger. Cas lifted a fry from her plate.

The mutual silence was then broken by a notification chime, and Amy pulled out her phone. She straightened abruptly. "Another body's just been found on the same street as our first victim."

Dean frowned. "What? Hold up, how could you possibly find that out so quickly?"

"I set up an alert on social media platforms for any hashtags involving dead bodies or police roll outs," she replied, and angled her phone toward him. "People are currently tweeting about a death that just happened."

Dean's brows rose in astonishment as he read the Twitter feed. Sure enough, people were commenting on the police coming out and cordoning off the same block from this afternoon because of a dead body.

"Okay," he said. "That's pretty clever." He was damn impressed, actually.

"We should get over there and take a look, right?" Amy asked.

Dean nodded, and pulled out his wallet to pay the bill. He didn't say that sometimes deaths happened that were unrelated to the case, because it was always prudent to check.

They left the restaurant and drove toward the reported scene where first responders had already set up a perimeter around an alleyway and flashing red and blue lights danced across the dark buildings.

Dean reached into his pocket for his badge, and found Amy's there too, so he handed it back to her as they made their way across the street to the mouth of the alley. There was a body lying a little ways down next to a trash can simmering with fire. Even from this distance, Dean could tell by the rags that the guy was homeless.

They flashed their credentials at the officer guarding entrance to the scene, and he let them in. A detective was there, standing over the body with a memo pad, but he wasn't writing anything. He looked up in confusion at their approach.

"Can I help you?"

"FBI," Dean announced. "We were in town about another case when we heard about this one, thought we'd come take a look."

The detective snorted. "What case? Homeless guy dropped dead, probably from exposure."

Cas furrowed his brows. "It's only fifty-five degrees outside right now."

"And someone saw a bunch of smoke," Amy spoke up.

The detective's eyes hardened on her. "You been taking witness statements?"

She blanched. "Oh, no. It was just on…" She reached for her phone. "Twitter."

His gaze remained steely. "What are you, twelve?"

"That's Agent Hathaway," Dean said sharply. "And yeah, people are talking."

The detective let out a derisive sounding snort and gestured to the trash can. "Guy was trying to keep warm, stood too close to the smoke. He even reeks of it. Hell, maybe that's what killed him."

Dean's gut pinged at that, but he kept his poker face on. "Guess we'll see what the ME says."

The detective flipped his blank memo pad closed. "I'll go see what's keeping the coroner." He strode off, leaving them alone with the body.

Dean stepped closer to get a better look. The dude's face was covered in grime, and he definitely smelled heavily of smoke. "So, looks like our ghost likes to kill with smoke inhalation. Fits with someone who died in a fire."

Cas turned to face down the alley, mouth pursed in thought. "We're two blocks away from the restaurant."

"And it's unusual for ghosts to travel that far from the scene of their death, right?" Amy checked.

"Unusual, but not impossible," Cas replied. "However, it usually takes ghosts a long time to master the ability to do that."

"Maybe our homeless vic went sifting through the rubble and picked up the personal item our ghost is bound to," Dean theorized.

Cas turned his gaze to the body and bent down.

"Watch for needles," Dean said, partly for Cas, partly for Amy's benefit.

Cas didn't respond, but he was careful as he started searching through the man's pockets. Dean kept an eye out for Mr. Snooty Detective, who would most likely object to them tampering with his crime scene. Even though he didn't think it was the scene of a crime.

Cas pulled out some gum wrappers, a miniature package of floss, and some crumpled one dollar bills. He finally stood up, empty handed.

"Think that's his?" Amy asked, pointing to a shopping cart that was half buried under a tarp.

Dean went over to it and gingerly lifted the flap to take a look inside. There were some plastic gallons of water, ratty blankets, newspaper, and a lot of empty soda cans. But there were also some random knickknacks, things that looked like they'd been picked out of garbage cans—a dirty yo-yo, cracked flashlight, and broken toaster. Dean doubted those were anything special to someone. He picked up the yo-yo, though, just in case. But it didn't smell like smoke, so he didn't think it had come from the restaurant.

"Dean," Cas said in warning, and he backed up just as the detective was returning.

"You're still here?"

"We were just leaving," Dean replied.

The detective eyed them suspiciously as they walked out.

"Well, that was a bust," Dean said when they reached the Impala.

"Now what?" Amy asked.

He cocked his head in a shrug. "If we don't get any new leads by morning, we'll come back out here after the cops are gone and keep looking for an object the homeless guy might have picked up."

She frowned. "The cops won't take everything into evidence?"

"They don't think it's a crime. They'll just leave it. But we might have to make a stop at the morgue tomorrow to double check the dude's personal effects."

"But Dad already looked."

"You'd be surprised where homeless people stash stuff," he said. "Better to let someone else do that search."

Amy quirked a confused look at him, but he quickly got in the car so he wouldn't have to explain. Cas and Amy climbed in as well, and they headed back to the motel.

Hopefully they'd catch a break soon. Because it was clear that this ghost was probably just getting started.

* * *

Sam grabbed the last stack of papers from the printer and returned to the study table where he'd spread out everything from the arson file that the investigator had emailed him. There was a ton on the scene itself—photographs of the damage, burn pattern analysis, chemical tests. But there was less when it came to suspects or motives. No one had been trying to buy the restaurant or plot of land it sat on, and from what Sam had gathered, no one had wanted to deal with the property afterward, and the real estate agent who'd died had drawn the short straw with that.

He started sorting through the recent pages, and paused at a detective's report. "Get this, turns out the cops did positively ID the third customer."

Ryn looked over from where she'd been tacking up pictures of the fire scene on a board. "That's great. Now they can narrow down the identity of the ghost."

Sam furrowed his brow as he kept reading, then huffed in consternation. "The guy was Iranian, so as soon as the cops found that out, they declared the fire was a bombing and act of terrorism. They stopped investigating after that."

Ryn scoffed. "A terrorist attack on a Japanese restaurant that was barely full of people?"

Sam shook his head. That was lazy police work, right there. Not to mention they'd condemned someone who was probably innocent. But as Sam read the bio on the third victim, he noticed that the guy had no family, no ties to anyone. Which made him an easy scapegoat.

Ryn moved to the left of the board and tapped one of the photographs of the crime scene that showed a charred outline against the wall. It looked like the silhouette of a person. "This is the kind of thing you see at the site of a nuclear detonation."

"Like the shadow men at Hiroshima," Sam said.

Those were haunting images. Shapes of objects and people left on the surfaces of sidewalks and walls because they'd absorbed the heat of the blast to the point where they'd been vaporized, and only the charcoal imprint forever seared into the pavement marked that they'd ever existed.

Ryn nodded. "This fire might have been supernatural."

Sam's mouth thinned. If that was the case, were they hunting a ghost who'd died in that fire? Or the thing that had set it to begin with?

"I should look into the history of the area," he said. "Maybe the ghost isn't from these recent deaths. You keep digging into the victims we do have?"

Ryn gave a nod of agreement, and came to take a seat across the table from him. Sam pulled up the restaurant owner's bio, as that seemed a good place to start. They really needed to narrow down their suspects before more people kept dying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to KoshiSekisen for translating the Japanese for me!

Dean had gotten used to sleeping when no one else in the room did. It was weird, actually, having that reflex of snapping awake at a moment's notice be blunted after becoming accustomed to having others stand watch all night. He hadn't even heard Cas leave in the morning to go get breakfast, nor had the sound of his return woken him, but the smell of fresh coffee.

Dean may have grunted an incoherent thank you as he shuffled to the table and sank into the chair, pulling the to-go cup close and inhaling deeply. Cas set a donut in front of him.

"Sam called," Cas informed him after he'd taken several sips. "The police attributed the restaurant fire to a terrorist bombing."

Dean blinked up at him. "What?"

"Sam doesn't believe that's the case," Cas went on. "He and Ryn actually suspect the fire may have had a supernatural cause."

Dean straightened. "Supernatural like what?"

"They're still looking into it. In the meantime, we should continue pursuing leads on the fire victims to try identifying our ghost." He nodded to Amy. "Amala."

Amy clacked a few keys on her laptop. "Mom sent the info she found on the restaurant owner. Hirohito Tanaka migrated to the United States in 1973 with nothing to his name. He built his restaurant up from scratch and had been in business for nearly forty years. Mom also found that his tax records didn't quite match up. There's no way the restaurant netted him very much, but he had a lot of funds in the bank."

Dean waved that off. "Okay, so he was probably into something shady. Maybe he was targeted with the fire- or bomb, whatever."

"How does that help us?"

Dean took another swig of coffee. "We go talk to his family, try to get a lead on what object he might have had a personal attachment to, and then track it down. And if that fails, we move on to the next person who died in the fire."

Amy pursed her mouth. "There's a lot of guess work on ghost cases."

Dean snorted. "Yup." He downed the rest of his drink and snatched up his donut. "Let's go."

The Tanaka residence wasn't far from the restaurant, only seven blocks, and looking at the run-down building, one wouldn't know that Tanaka had a ton of money stashed away.

They made their way up to the second floor to apartment 2C and knocked on the door. It was several moments before the handle finally turned, slowly, and the door inched open carefully.

"Mrs. Tanaka?" Dean said, getting a glimpse of an older Japanese woman with graying hair. He held up his badge. "I'm Agent Stills. This is Agent Moscone and Agent Hathaway with the FBI. Do you mind if we come in and talk to you about the fire at your husband's restaurant?"

She eyed them guardedly for a long moment before answering. " _Watashi, toraburu ni wa kakawaritaku arimasen._ "

Dean faltered. "Uh…"

" _Gomeiwaku wo okakesuru tsumori wa nai desu,_ " Cas spoke up. Dean blinked at him in surprise. " _Goshujin no koto totemo zannen desu. Keisatsu wa goshujin no resutoran ga bakuha sareta to shinjiteimasu no de, sousa sasete itadakitai. Ojama shitemo yoroshii desu ka?_ "

Dean exchanged a bewildered look with Amy, but she just shrugged.

Mrs. Tanaka looked equally taken aback, but after another second of hesitation, finally opened her door. Cas nodded to her respectfully as he entered first, Dean and Amy trailing behind.

" _Genba ni wa inakatta no de,_ " the woman said, " _nani mo iu koto wa arimasen._ "

" _Goshujin wa sono jikan ni itsumo resutoran de shigoto wo shiteitan desu ka?_ "

" _Ee._ "

" _Kokoro atari wa? Dareka goshujin ni urami wo motsu youna hito wa imashita ka?_ " Cas said.

" _Iya._ " That sounded harsh.

Dean leaned over to Amy and whispered, "What are they saying?"

"I don't know. I didn't learn Japanese," she whispered back.

"I thought you've been studying a bunch of languages."

"Well, not  _that_  one."

Dean rolled his eyes, and let his gaze wander around the tiny apartment. Despite the outside appearance of the building, the interior was pristine and organized. Every piece of furniture was arranged in such a way that size and shape was positioned symmetrically throughout the room. There was a narrow table against the center wall with a framed photograph of the late Mr. Tanaka, surrounded by small candles and other paraphernalia that basically made up a little shrine. Dean idly made his way over, wondering if anything there might be the object the ghost was attached to.

" _Sawaranaide kudasai,_ " a sharp voice startled him, and Mrs. Tanaka came over.

Dean held his hands up. "I was just looking."

Cas said something in Japanese, which Dean hoped was a translation.

"Ask her if any of these things meant something special to her husband."

Cas shot a dry look at him before returning to his conversation. " _Mo ni fukushiteiru no wa wakarimasu. Moushiwake nai ga, kuwashiku sousa sasete kudasai. Nakunatte kara, korudo supotto no youna myou na keiken arimashita ka?_ "

" _Masaka._ " She sounded affronted. " _Akuryou nado kara mamorareteimasu._ " She pointed to an amulet hanging on the corner of the picture frame, a rectangular shape with red and brown embroidery. " _Otto wa totemo mame na hito deshita. Kare wa ofuda wo ie to resutoran ni osonae shiteimashita._ "

Cas squinted at it. He then met Amy's gaze and flicked his eyes toward the object meaningfully before turning to Mrs. Tanaka and gently guiding her to the sofa.

Amy subtly moved closer to the shrine, and Dean sidestepped to partially block her from view. He angled a look over his shoulder.

"Well?"

Amy sucked on her bottom lip. "I think I can sense a psychic signature," she said quietly. She glanced over at Mrs. Tanaka. "What do we do?"

Cas suddenly stood and inclined his head respectfully to Mrs. Tanaka, and Dean smacked Amy's arm for her to back up. She hastily stepped away from the shrine.

" _Ojikan arigatou gozaimashita,_ " Cas said, nodding again. He then looked at Dean and Amy and canted his head toward the door.

The three filed out, and Dean heard Mrs. Tanaka bolt and chain the door behind them.

"Okay, so?" he demanded impatiently.

"She hasn't noticed any signs of her husband's ghost," Cas shared. "When I asked about her husband having enemies, she denied it, but she was lying. Well, not fully lying. I believe she couldn't name any, but she also knew there were likely some." He turned to Amy. "Did you sense anything on the omamori amulet?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"Is that the object, then?" Dean asked, but frowned. "How long has it been in the apartment, though?"

"It's one of a pair," Cas answered. "And it's possible the ghost is attached to both. The other was at the restaurant. That also might explain why he has an extended range of movement."

"Okay, so we need to grab both," Dean said.

Cas nodded. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared with a flutter of wing beats, only to reappear a moment later with the charm in hand.

Dean clapped his hands together. "Great. Now we just have to find the other one in all that rubble."

"I believe we can use this as a homing beacon," Cas said, holding up the omamori.

"Perfect. Let's go." Dean turned and led the way downstairs back to the Impala, and then it was a very short drive the few blocks to the site of the burned down restaurant.

Cas got out of the car, the charm still dangling in his hand as he started to move it back and forth like a compass. He paused, and took a step toward the left. "This way."

Seemed like the homeless man last night hadn't made off with the charm, which was good. And since they now had the second piece, that should reduce the ghost's range of teleportation. Which also meant they needed to be on guard.

Dean went to the trunk to grab the iron crowbars, and passed one to Amy. Then they followed Cas inside the ruined remains of the restaurant. Dean kept his eyes peeled and his senses poised for the first sign of a cold spot as he carefully picked his way across the rubble. Detritus still crunched under his boots—broken bits of glass and wood and melted plastic. Charcoal imprints of flames spread across the walls in every direction, and there was even a dark silhouette of what looked like a person seared into the floor.

Cas picked his way through the debris and bent down next to what had once been a serving counter. He poked through some chunks of ash until a spot of red peeked out, and then he lifted an identical charm to the one he was holding, albeit dirty and singed along one edge. He straightened slowly, looking around.

Dean wondered why the ghost hadn't shown itself yet.

Cas made his way back over to them with the omamori, and they exited the building. Dean went back to the Impala to get the rock salt, and then he poured a bit on the sidewalk and got his lighter ready. Cas dropped the charms onto the salt, and Dean dropped the lighter with its flame. The omamori went up in a crackle and whoosh.

Amy looked at it dubiously, crowbar braced on her shoulder. "Is that it?"

Dean had to admit that was a bit anticlimactic compared to most of their ghost cases. Had they been wrong? But Cas said there was a psychic imprint on the charms, so those had to be the objects the ghost was attached to.

The fire suddenly surged upward with a roar, and Dean stumbled back as a smoky entity abruptly erupted from within the flames. It swirled around in a violent vortex above their heads before splashing down into a human form, one who's eyes were blazing with fire.

"Shit!" Dean blurted, and swung his crowbar. The iron whipped through the apparition, but didn't dissipate it. His eyes widened.

The ghost let out another raging roar and thrust his palms out toward them. Three columns of smoke shot forward and plunged into their mouths and noses.

Dean doubled over, choking as cloying smoke filled his throat and lungs and cut off his oxygen. His eyes watered from the heat of it, too. He tried to suck in a ragged breath, but only swallowed more smoke. He dropped to his knees.

Amy was standing a couple feet beside him, clutching her throat and hacking violently, eyes wide with shock and terror.

Cas stumbled toward the Impala, the smoke following and continuing to swirl around his head. He tried to wave his hands through it, but he couldn't escape. He crashed against the open trunk and fumbled around the stuff inside.

Dean's vision was spotting and his lungs were on fire. He saw Cas stagger backward, a jug of holy water in hand, and watched as the angel flung it at the fire.

The ghost shrieked and wrenched away, evaporating with the doused flames.

Dean fell forward onto his hands and knees, still coughing up a lung. Or both of them. A second later, Cas dropped down in front of him and reached two fingers to his forehead. In the next instant, his lungs were clear and his breathing restored. Dean reeled back.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know." Cas coughed into his sleeve, then pushed himself up with effort and lurched toward Amy. She was still coughing, too. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently.

She nodded, eyes watering. Dean frowned at both of them. What kind of ghost could do that to an angel and half-angel?

He went over to the smoking pile on the sidewalk and crouched down. The omamori charms had been completely burned. What the hell?

"We ganked it, right?" he said.

Cas's mouth was pressed into a tight line. "No. It disappeared; it wasn't vanquished."

"But it was the guy! The guy in the photo. Burning the objects was supposed to have worked."

Cas shook his head. "That wasn't a regular ghost."

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know. But it seems to only travel through fire. That's why it hasn't shown itself before now."

Dean's brow furrowed. "The cigarette and trash can fire."

Cas nodded, and coughed again. "We need to look into the lore."

"I'll text Sam," Dean said. "You two need to sit down and drink some water."

Neither of them argued, and Dean started to gather up their stuff to stash in the trunk. Then they climbed into the Impala and headed back to the motel to get cleaned up, and then try to find out what the hell they were dealing with.

* * *

"It's an enenra," Sam said.

"A what?" Dean's voice came through the speaker phone.

"A demonic type of ghost that can be created when mass deaths happen in a fire," Ryn replied.

"Like a restaurant full of people."

"Yeah." Sam leaned forward on the table where they had a bunch of lore books open. "We haven't found anything on how to kill it yet, except that it can only be killed when it's in its true form."

"What's its true form?"

Sam grimaced. "That's the problem—we don't know. Only the 'pure of heart' can see it."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean scowled.

Sam shrugged in commiseration, even though his brother couldn't see it. "We'll keep looking. Are you guys all right?" When Dean had texted, he'd mentioned they'd been attacked.

"Cas healed me, but he and Amy still have a bit of smoke inhalation." There was a pause and a muffled sound. "Cas insists they're fine."

Well, that was good. Sam glanced at Ryn. She'd been wholly supportive of Amy going on a hunt, but this one was turning into something that sounded pretty dangerous. But while there was a slight pinch in her brow that bespoke concern, she hadn't started saying they needed to get over there like mother-hen Dean would have been doing had he been here instead.

"We'll let you know if we find anything," Sam said before hanging up. He turned to Ryn. "You okay?"

She pulled her shoulders back and reached for a book. "Yeah."

"It's not hypocritical to be worried," he pointed out.

She sighed. "Okay, yes. I feel like I should be there. Amy may be part phoenix, but I'm the one immune to fire. And I can't help but feel like I'd be of more use there." She dropped the book she'd grabbed back on the table.

Sam gave her a sympathetic look. "I get it. But you've also done more to organize the library than the rest of us. We've been able to find the right books faster, and that makes a difference too."

Ryn quirked a small smile at him. "I know. Thanks."

He nodded. "So let's try to find a way to kill an enenra."


	4. Chapter 4

Amy sat on the motel bed, propped up against the headboard with her knees drawn up in a restful sitting position. There was still a tickle in the back of her throat, and she reached for the cup of tea on the nightstand beside her to try washing it down.

The ghost's attack had been quite…harrowing. She'd spent so much of her training focusing on physical assaults and defensive and offensive moves. To have something incorporeal incapacitate her before she'd even had the chance to put up a fight had shaken her. Especially since she was used to having an advantage over the more mundane monsters, being half angel, half phoenix. She didn't think she should have been rendered so helpless by a bunch of smoke.

…Smoke that had been thick and cloying and clogging her mouth and lungs so that she couldn't even speak or draw breath. Amy shuddered. Her dad hadn't come away from that unscathed, either, though he'd at least had the presence of mind to find the water and douse the fire. Amy was ashamed she hadn't thought that quickly.

Castiel and Dean were sitting at the small table, discussing what they'd learned about the enenra. They were all in a holding pattern at the moment while they waited for more info on how to defeat it.

Amy kept thinking about one detail, though—that the enenra's true form could only be seen by the 'pure of heart.' And back at the restaurant, when Mr. Tanaka's shape had faded with a shriek, Amy had seen something else in his place. A dark gray, amorphous blob that had bobbed in the air, almost as though flailing, before it slurped into the ruins of the restaurant, presumably to hide.

And Castiel and Dean had said it disappeared.

But Amy had seen it, she knew she had. Did that make her 'pure of heart'? And if so…then she was the only one who could banish it.

But how? There hadn't been anything in the lore about that, not that her mom and Sam had found yet, anyway. Could they afford to wait and risk the spirit killing more people every time the smallest ember lit up? Or was the enenra trapped in the restaurant now that the omamori charms were destroyed?

She stared into the depths of her tea, trying to figure out what to do. Her angel blade might work; it could kill most things. And as long as the enenra was in its true form, then she could deliver the fatal blow.

Dean pushed himself up out of his chair. "Who wants Chinese?"

Castiel gave him a dry look. "Really?"

"What?" he said defensively. "It's totally different from Japanese. And I'm in the mood for Kung Pao chicken." He turned to Amy. "What do you say, kid?"

She blinked. "Oh, um, sure."

Dean's mouth turned down slightly. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah." She hesitated under their worried gazes, a mere reflection of her own emotions at that moment. Dean and Castiel couldn't see the enenra. And their presence would probably incite it to manifest in a different form so it could attack them, which Amy wouldn't be able to kill. And it could hurt them like it had this afternoon. God, Uncle Dean could have  _died_.

Her chest tightened. She knew they weren't supposed to go on hunts solo, that they were a team and were supposed to work together. But sometimes the person who was the most capable needed to step up. And Amy wanted to prove—to them and herself—that they hadn't made a mistake in bringing her, that she was meant to be part of the family business.

"Actually…" she started. "I want to do more research. Would you bring me back something?"

Dean frowned. "We can just order in."

"No," she said quickly. "Go get your Chinese. I'll be fine. Actually, if you could bring me back some egg rolls, that'd be awesome."

He continued to look doubtful, but cast a questioning glance at Castiel. Amy held her breath, but her dad ended up shrugging and getting to his feet as well.

"Alright," Castiel said. "Call us if you get any cheep alerts."

Dean pulled up short, blinking in confusion for a moment before rolling his eyes. "Tweet alerts."

Amy was too nervous to laugh, but neither of them seemed to notice as they headed out. She waited for the sound of the Impala's engine starting up and driving away before she unfurled from the bed. She grabbed her angel blade from her duffel bag and tucked the thin dirk into the back of her waistband. Then she grabbed a piece of paper from the table and scritched out a note, explaining that she knew how to kill the enenra, that she saw its true form earlier, and that she believed she could stop it before anyone else got hurt.

_Including them_.

She left the note on the table and took a deep breath. She could do this.

Spreading her wings, Amy leaped into the ether and flew to the burned down restaurant.

She landed inside the wreckage and almost slipped on a pile of debris, but caught herself. Everything was still and quiet. Amy carefully picked her way through the rubble, eyes and senses peeled. Her gaze roved over the broken glass of shattered picture frames that contained singed and curled photos of a Japanese man with various family members. Bits of burned menus lay here and there, enough for Amy to see that the design had been hand-drawn.

She came to a charred skeleton of what had once been a fish tank, and imagined the exotic specimens it might have contained. Perhaps for decoration, perhaps for preparing. She took in the ruins of the restaurant and tried to imagine what it might have looked like in its prime, how Mr. Tanaka had built it from the ground up. His life's work. And his life.

Amy swallowed. She knew the ghost had killed people, that the enenra was basically a vengeful spirit…but it wasn't his fault that he'd died in such a tragic event.

A chill trickled up her spine, and she stiffened. Unlike with other ghosts, the temperature was suddenly rising to an oppressive, stuffy heat. Amy slowly turned, scanning the area. A gray phantasm was curling its way around a partially destroyed booth.

Amy reached behind her for her angel blade, but then stopped. "Mr. Tanaka?" she called instead. "You don't know me, but…I know you're there, and I know what happened here."

The tenebrous shape simmered in place.

"I don't think you want to be trapped here," she went on, hoping this kind of ghost could understand human speech. "You were a very spiritual man in life. Your wife talked about your omamori charms. She'd be devastated to know your soul had ended up stuck like this."

The temperature shot up several degrees and Amy felt sweat beading around her hairline.

"What happened to you and everyone here was awful. But you have to let go and move on. That's the only way you'll be at peace. Please, Mr. Tanaka, do it for your wife. And yourself."

The enenra suddenly surged upward like a geyser and came arcing down toward her with a belching roar of sweltering heat that knocked Amy flat on her ass.

_"Peace,"_  it hissed.  _"Not while the one who did this yet lives."_

Amy scrabbled backward until her back hit a pile of debris, and she was trapped as the enenra loomed over her, cloying breath wafting in her face. She coughed. "Everyone in the fire died. You're hurting innocent people who were never there!"

It reeled upward.  _"Everyone will burn."_

And then it plunged down toward her again, wrapping its smoky form around her head and trying to shove its way into her throat. The invasion still sent a shock through her system, but this time Amy managed to push forward enough to reach back for her angel blade. She swung it around, cutting through the enenra. But the blade did nothing.

Panic flooded her veins, and she tried to scramble away. The enenra followed, coiling itself around her so tightly that she couldn't see, and she tripped on some rubble, her palms skidding through glass and splinters as she caught herself. Her lungs spasmed.

_No, please!_

"Amy!"

She blinked through watery eyes to find Dean and Castiel running toward her. Castiel reached for her and Dean at the same time, his wings snapping taut in preparation to fly.

The enenra hissed and wrenched away from her. She saw its mouth open wide and spew a column of fire that grazed her dad's wings. Castiel cried out and crashed to his knees beside her.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, grabbing for his arm.

Amy stared in horror as the flames licked along his feathers. Dean's eyes widened as he also noticed the tongues of fire curling around something in the air, and he quickly shrugged out of his jacket to slap at them. Castiel doubled over on his hands and knees.

"Dad!" Amy reached for him, intending to fly them all out herself, but the enenra belted out another eruption of flames that washed up and over the ceiling and down the walls, so hot that it was white in the center and tinged with purple along the edges. Dean flinched away from the molten river that would instantly melt the flesh from his bones.

The enenra wheeled back around.  _"You will all BURN!"_

Amy's heart leaped into her throat.  _No_. No, this couldn't happen. She couldn't watch her dad and uncle die because they were trying to save  _her_. And all because she'd been stupid enough to come here on her own, stupid enough to believe she could stop a creature like this without being prepared.

Dean and Castiel clung to each other, their other hands reaching desperately for Amy, even though there was no escape.

And Amy felt her blood suddenly quicken with fire, wholly unlike the one raging around them, but sharp and crisp and  _powerful_. It sang out with a trumpeting screech that shook the foundation of the building.

She snapped her head up, vision coated with blue as grace flared to the surface. But not just grace—grace wreathed in fire.

And it was like the floodgates opening. Fueled by the overwhelming urgency to protect her family, Amy let that power fill every pore and explode outward. She thrust her palm toward the enenra, shooting out a stream of blue flames that was a mixture of primal fire and divine glory. It cascaded into the enenra, slamming the spirit back against the wall. A shriek like a jet engine rent the air.

Amy rose to her feet and shoved her hands out to the sides. The scorching flames surrounding them bent backward and quailed. She pushed a wave of grace at them, beating them back further. The enenra wailed.

Amy drew her hands in toward her chest and focused on summoning up one last wave of power. A sphere of blue fire crackled in her palms, growing larger and brighter. The enenra reeled up for an attack, but she thrust the orb at it, and the spirit disappeared in a haze of blazing celestial energy. The last of the malevolent flames fizzled out.

Amy dropped her arms to her sides, her blood still singing, fingertips tingling. She glanced down at her dad and uncle. Dean was gaping at her in what appeared to be shock. Castiel's expression was carefully neutral, save for the crinkling around his eyes that telegraphed how much pain he was in. Amy's stomach cramped at the sight of his wings. This was her fault.

Castiel started to climb to his feet, and Dean gripped his arm to help him when he staggered.

"Uh, is it over?" Dean asked.

"Yes," he replied. "It's over."

* * *

Castiel stood with his arms folded on the roof of the Impala, forehead resting on them as Amala poured healing energy over his invisible wings. Scorched flesh and singed feathers gradually mended, and when she finally pulled away, Castiel let out the breath he'd been holding. His wings hadn't been burned like that since he'd laid siege to Hell, but with his daughter's unique combination of grace and regenerating fire, he'd healed much faster this time.

He straightened and turned around. Amy didn't say anything, nor did she meet his gaze. Instead, she backed up and quietly moved away from the car, going to stand at the edge of the motel parking lot.

Dean came out of their room with the last of their bags, which he stashed in the trunk. He glanced at Amy, then at Castiel. "You good?"

"Yes." He'd suffered no permanent damage from the encounter with the enenra.

Castiel looked over at Amy, who was gazing out at the road, a despondent slump in her posture. Dean was also watching her, but didn't make a move to go over. He simply slammed the trunk closed and waited, sharing a somber look with Castiel.

Castiel walked over.

Amy only half turned at his approach, and kept her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know going off on my own was stupid, and I nearly got us all killed."

Castiel regarded her carefully. "Why did you?"

She bit her lip. "I was afraid it would attack you and Uncle Dean again."

"Dean and I are not easily taken down," he kindly pointed out.

Amy nodded. "I know. You stopped it the first time. I just froze, and Uncle Dean could have died…" She finally looked up, expression pained. "I thought I could be a good hunter, a good warrior, worthy of our family's name. I went after the enenra because…I just wanted to make you proud."

Castiel's heart gave a pang of sympathy. He stepped closer and reached out to cup the sides of her face, leaning his forehead down against hers. "I'm always proud of you."

Amy let out what sounded like a hiccoughed breath. She put her arms around him, and Castiel dropped his to reciprocate, drawing her close and holding tightly in a fervent embrace. She'd grown up so much, but still had a lot to learn. Her heart was in the right place, though.

Castiel gave her a warm smile when she finally pulled back. "Let's go home."

* * *

Ryn stacked the lore books in a pile to return to the shelves, now that the case with the enenra was over. Castiel, Dean, and Amy were on their way back, and though they were all right, it had apparently been a harrowing experience for all of them. Yet also, from what it sounded like, a growing one.

"Move it," Ryn said to Kit, nudging the cat to get off the open tome she was sprawled across. She got a disgruntled 'mrrp' in response.

"Hey, Ryn," Sam called. "Come check this out."

She closed the book before Kit could reclaim it as a bed, and then went over to the other table where Sam was on his laptop. "What is it?"

"I know the ghost problem was taken care of, but we didn't find out what caused the initial fire, so I was searching through some footage in the area—hacking into traffic and ATM cameras," he explained. He dragged a counter backward over a screenshot. "This is from a feed from the building across the street. Luckily their cloud storage doesn't recycle for every three months." He hit the key to play the footage.

Ryn leaned over his shoulder and watched as the dark alleyway suddenly exploded with blazing light. The blast had been concentrated at the front of the restaurant, leaving the back relatively undamaged. Orange light flickered over the walls as the flames consumed the building. And then the back door swung open and a charred figure limped out into the alley. Ryn's eyes widened at the blackened flesh flickering with smoldering embers where there should have been flesh.

But rather than the cinders devouring what was left of the victim, they were spreading out like sparkling water. Ryn stared in astonishment as muscle and skin slowly reformed, cartilage stitching back together and hair growing out of crispy follicles. The person staggered painfully to the mouth of the alley, and when he lifted his head, his eyes fritzed out on the camera screen.

Ryn's breath left her lungs with a punch.

"It's a phoenix."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... That's it for this first fic, but as you can see, there's more to be told. Next up is the sequel, "Scorched," coming Friday. Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos!


End file.
